


subscribe for love

by Cantabo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Derek Hale, Humor, M/M, YouTuber Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 17:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18665047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantabo/pseuds/Cantabo
Summary: @LauraHale: I just want everyone to know that I will only accept @stilesformiles as Derek’s one true love from now on. U can marry my baby bro any day, stiles.>@DerekHale replying to @LauraHale: Laura, please stop. Please, please stop. PLEASE STOP EMAILING ME WEDDING GOWNS.>@coracoracora retweeted @LauraHale: Laura, whatever you do, do not stop emailing Derek wedding gowns





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**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I've had this in my docs for a long time and I figured I'd just post it. I'm marking it as complete because it can stand alone as a cute lil one-shot, but I'm a little tempted to try and see if it has any potential as a longer fic, so I'd love any feedback on that thought!

The whole YouTube thing started as a way for Stiles to relieve some stress. 

At the time, Stiles was more than halfway through a degree he barely tolerated, living with a roommate he could barely stand, and sort of drifting in life. Lydia was up in Boston and Scott was back in Beacon Hills. 

Isaac was a terrible roommate. They started out being friends freshman year. They lived on the same floor in the dorms and hung out a lot, but when Stiles needed a roommate after his sophomore year and Isaac needed one too, they picked each other more out of convenience than anything. 

Stiles intensely regrets not just paying an arm and a leg for a studio instead. Isaac always left his dirty, food-filled dishes sitting on the counter next to the sink, and he left scraps from his fashion projects all over the living room, so Stiles kept stepping on pins and needles.

So he started the YouTube channel on the behest of Lydia, who is a YouTube fashion guru. She’s got like 4 million followers and Stiles isn’t even surprised. 

He’s kind of at a loss for what to do, so he ends up using his camera and recording as he goes around the city by himself and finds little hole in the wall places. 

That was three years ago, and almost 800 thousand followers later, and Stiles uploads weekly, each week taking his camera (and sometimes Lydia, who moved to Los Angeles with him for grad school at Caltech) to a new hole in the wall restaurant or store or event. The wonderful thing about Los Angeles is that there’s never a cap on how many little unique things there are to do.

Stiles is in his last year of grad school at UCLA, and he’s kind of drifting through his fall semester, ignoring any and all questions that pertain to life after graduation.

“Stiles! Where are you?” Lydia calls, entering their apartment. She’s got her vlogging tone, so Stiles immediately closes out his incognito browser that’s loading Redtube, because Lydia would be shitty enough to include that in her video, or at least tweet about it.

Just as he’s opened up Twitter and rearranged himself under the covers, Lydia opens his door and charges for his bed, jumping on top of him.

“Lydia,” Stiles groans, pushing his face into his pillow.

“Stiles, I need you to do something for me,” Lydia says, smiling at him.

“I bought you tampons last week, there’s no way you’re still on your period,” Stiles groans.

“Asshole!” Lydia exclaims slapping his thigh. Stiles freezes, and Lydia does too.

“Stiles, are you naked?” Lydia asks. Stiles smiles sheepishly and shrugs.

“I have this shirt on!” Stiles protests.

“Do you have anything else on?”

“Um… also some socks? They have pineapples on them!”

“Well you heard it here ladies and gentlemen, Stiles likes to jack off while he wears pineapple socks,” Lydia says, turning the camera towards her. Stiles groans and rolls over, facing away from her.

“Get out of my room, you monster!”

“Seriously, I need you to do something for me,” Lydia says, and Stiles rolls his eyes, but turns back to listen.

“So, I have been thinking a lot, and I think that we should do a drunk video again,” Lydia says.

“Lydia, I am still paying off my hospital bill from our last drunk video,” Stiles groans.

“I know, but this time we’ll do board games and spa activities, and I promise no fire will be involved!”

Stiles sighs because he really doesn’t have any say in the matter.

“Alright, fine. Is this going to be a shopping vlog?”

“This is definitely a shopping vlog!

-

To be fair, it was originally just a shopping vlog. Stiles dropped Lydia off at Bed, Bath & Beyond, and headed over to Target to buy all the food on Lydia’s grocery list.

Stiles has his camera set up on the dashboard of his jeep, and he’s jamming out pretty hard to Rihanna. He’s trying to find a spot in the parking lot, and that’s when he sees Hot Guy.

Hot Guy has broad shoulders and muscular arms. He’s wearing a henley and black jeans, and Stiles mouth definitely waters.

He picks up the camera and continues to slowly creep the jeep as Hot Guy walks through the parking lot. 

“Um, excuse me, sir,” Stiles says. The windows are up, so he’s talking more to the camera than anything else. 

_ “Jesus,”  _ Stiles groans. “I’m literally just… just following the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life through a parking lot, like an actual creep.”

Stiles parks at the nearest spot and scrambles out of the car, taking the camera with him. Hot guy walks a little bit longer and then gets into a fucking black Camaro.

“See? Look at Hot Guy!” Stiles exclaims, turning the camera so that both he and Hot Guy in his Hot Car are visible. “He even drives a Hot Guy car! He might actually be the hottest guy in the entire world. Who even drives a car that sexy? I drive a Jeep, I feel like that makes sense.”

Hot Guy speeds off into the sunset, most likely going back to his home on the face of the sun, with other ridiculously hot people. 

The rest of the video is more or less Stiles buying a bunch of alcohol, completely ignoring everything else on Lydia’s list, and buying too much candy and chocolate.

-

It should just be that, another vlog leading up to the actual video of Stiles and Lydia getting really drunk and playing Uno in their pajamas. 

At first, that’s honestly all it is. And then of course, because the internet is the internet, the morning after the video has been uploaded everything is suddenly blowing up.

“Stiles! Have you checked your account this morning?” Lydia calls from outside his door. Stiles raises his head off of his pillow, blinking in confusion.

“Lydia, I don’t have class until 1 today, I’m still in bed.”

“Stiles, get up! You need to see this!”

Honestly, Stiles is intrigued enough that he gets up.

Lydia is waiting in the kitchen, her laptop open to Stiles’ YouTube page. Stiles rubs his eyes as he walks right past the laptop and to the coffee machine.

“Stiles! If I make you breakfast will you sit the hell down already?” Lydia snaps, and Stiles looks at her, eyebrows raised.

“I mean who am I to turn down that offer?” Stiles mutters, sitting down in front of the computer. He stares at the page for a minute, not understanding what Lydia is talking about until he sees it.

‘968K Subscribers’

Stiles stares, but the number isn’t going away.

“Lydia, am I having a stroke?”

“No, but you might after I show you why this is happening,” Lydia says cryptically, and sits down next to him. She sets a cup of coffee next to him, but he ignores it.

“Did you do that thing where you buy me followers?” 

“No! Just, look,” Lydia says, turning the screen towards Stiles. There’s a google page up for some guy. He’s hot. Like,  _ hot hot.  _

“Who is this?” Stiles asks.

“This is Derek Hale, and he’s the hot guy from your video,” Lydia says. Stiles narrows his eyes at the screen and then looks at Lydia.

“Are you sure? The guy that I saw in the parking lot looked… normal. This guy looks like he wants to kill me! Hot Guy was carrying a gift bag with a penguin on it!”

“Stiles, it’s definitely him,” Lydia says, and then snatches the laptop back.

“Okay, even if it is him, what’s the big deal? I’m assuming he’s some celebrity, but so is half of L.A.,” Stiles says.

“There’s more,” Lydia says, pushing the computer back to him again. This time it’s open to Twitter and is showing the search results for ‘#sterek’.

_ @missprissprim: Stiles seeing Derek Hale in a parking lot, not knowing who he is, and proceeding to drool over him anyways gives me life! #sterek _

_ @anonymoustweetie: I had no idea who @stilesformiles was yesterday, but today I’m shipping him and @derekhale so much! #sterek _

“So… I’m part of a ship? To some dude that I don’t even know but is apparently famous?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m confused,” Stiles says, grabbing the cup of coffee and gulping it down.

“So you were in the parking lot of Target, saw Derek Hale, the star in that dystopian science fiction show. You vlogged yourself saying that he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, and you blew up the internet. Well, I mean you’re trending on twitter, but other than that the internet is fine.”

“I’m… trending?” Stiles asks. His head hurts.

“Oh baby, there’s even more,” Lydia says, and then pulls up a twitter page for a woman named Laura Hale.

“This is Derek’s sister, Laura. She was on three seasons of that ballet reality show that just ended.”

_ @LauraHale: I just want everyone to know that I will only accept @stilesformiles as Derek’s one true love from now on. U can marry my baby bro any day, stiles. _

_ >@DerekHale replying to @LauraHale: Laura, please stop. Please, please stop. PLEASE STOP EMAILING ME WEDDING GOWNS. _

_ >@coracoracora retweeted @LauraHale: Laura, whatever you do, do not stop emailing Derek wedding gowns _

“What’s happening here?”

“I think you’re internet famous, buddy. Like, you’re actually internet famous,” Lydia says, like saying it twice will make everything clearer.

“I have a headache. Can I just ignore all of this?” Stiles asks.

“Um, you could, or you could make a tweet about it, because you need to stay relevant, and this is kind of amazing, I will kill you if you ignore this whole situation,” Lydia says.

“Lyds, I have class at 1,” Stiles whines. 

“It takes two minutes to write a tweet, and it’s only 10:30. I think you’ll make it to class on time.”

Stiles sighs, but grabs the laptop and starts composing an eloquent, well written and poised tweet about this whole mess.

_ >@stilesformiles: guys i just woke up and im very confused i dont know whats happening, I JUSTSAID HE WAS HOT WHY ARE THERE WEDDING PLANS?! WHY AM I IN A SHIP? _

_ >@stilesformiles: please don’t harass this dude it’s most definitely not worth it lets all just go back to bed pls its still really early and im v tired _

Lydia leans over his shoulder and snorts a laugh.

“How eloquent of you,” Lydia says, and Stiles rolls his eyes, shutting the laptop and heading back to his room.

“Where are you going? We should be lapping up this attention!”

“You can have the attention, I’m going to take a nap,” Stiles says, and smiles as Lydia makes a frustrated groan. 

-

Stiles gets home from class that night and immediately freezes. The apartment is super clean and there’s some weird bohemian music drifting through the speakers in the living room.

“Lydia? What’s going on?”

“Oh! You’re home early. Will you help me cook?” Lydia calls from the kitchen. Stiles walks in and looks at her wearily. Lydia is leaning over a pot, stirring and trying to type at the same time.

“Why are we cooking? I thought Jackson wasn’t coming home from London until next month. Am I going to be sexiled again?” Stiles asks, wearily taking the spoon from her and stirring as she grabs her phone with both hands to type. 

“No, we’re having guests.” Lydia looks at him and her eyes widen. “Is that what you wore to class? Oh my god, those sweatpants have a hole in them!”

“So? It was just lecture. Who’s coming over that’s going to judge me for wearing sweats?”

Lydia ignores his question entirely. “Go change! I laid out an outfit on your bed.”

Stiles stares at Lydia in confusion, but after she shoots him a terrifying look, Stiles scurries away from her, and grumpily pulls on the dark jeans and black sweater she’s laid out for him. Stiles has no idea whose sweater this is, and he seriously wonders if Lydia went out and bought him a sweater for dinner tonight. It’s definitely something she would do.

He comes back into the kitchen and takes the spoon from her, stirring while she aggressively types away on her phone. Stiles realizes she’s making his mom’s recipe for Short Rib Ragu and can’t help but smile.

“Okay, you go set the table, and I’ll finish the food. Set it for four!”

Stiles rolls his eyes but does so, laying out placemats and napkins, then plates and silverware. Stiles is trying to remember where all the silverware is supposed to go when there’s a knock at the door.

“Stiles, could you get that?” Lydia asks. 

“I thought I was setting the table!” Stiles calls back, giving up and throwing all the silverware into a pile on the table. Everyone can just grab what they need, who even cares.

“Stiles!” Lydia yells. Stiles rolls his eyes but obediently goes to get the door. He opens it and stares.

Derek fucking Hale is standing there, a beautiful smirking woman standing next to him. Derek is staring at him, and Stiles is staring right back, shocked and kind of turned on.

“Uhhhh,” Stiles says intelligently.

“Are you going to let us in?” Derek asks impatiently. The woman behind him rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m obviously having a stroke, please come back later,” Stiles says, shutting the door. There’s a bark of laughter on the other side of the door, and Stiles runs to the kitchen, furious.

“Why is Derek Hale standing outside? What did you do?” He hisses at Lydia. She shrugs and wipes her hands on a towel.

“I tweeted his older sister, we got to talking and thought it would be a good idea to get together, so they’re here for dinner. Did you let them in?” Lydia asks, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“No, I left them on the porch,” Stiles says. Lydia rolls her eyes, then looks around.

“Wait, did you actually leave them standing outside?”

“Yes, I told you, I left them standing on the porch,” Stiles says.

“Stiles!” Lydia shouts, running to the front door. She opens it to find a cross looking Derek and a cackling Laura.

“I’m sorry, he’s an idiot, I don’t know why I thought he was capable of opening the door,” Lydia says, stepping aside and gesturing them in. Stiles scoffs and rolls his eyes, heading into the kitchen. Stiles can hear Lydia and Laura chattering on in the living room, and digs around in the freezer until he finds the vodka.

“A little early in life for alcoholism, don’t you think?” A voice asks. Stiles jerks his head out of the freezer, banging his head on the door.

“Not when you live with Lydia, it isn’t,” Stiles says, putting the bottle of vodka on the table.

“I take it she does this a lot then?” Derek asks, a smirk playing on his face as he sits down on one of the barstools. It’s odd to see a man hotter than the sun sitting in his and Lydia’s slightly above average apartment. Derek’s in a blue long sleeve shirt and jeans that fit sinfully well. 

“You have no idea. Last month she told me we were going to see a play, I woke up on a train halfway to San Francisco. Alone,” Stiles says. Derek laughs, a surprisingly pleasant sound, and Stiles can’t help but smile. 

“How did you manage that?” Derek asks. Stiles pulls a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge and grabs a glass from the cabinet.

“Want a drink?” Stiles asks. 

Derek shrugs and then nods, so Stiles pulls out a second glass.

“I think she convinced me that if we went to San Francisco we could party in the Castro district, then got bored and accidentally left me on the train,” Stiles says, pouring vodka and then orange juice into the glasses. Derek chuckles, shaking his head.

“You might need better friends,” Derek says.

“I’ve got enough blackmail on her, including pictures of her with braces!” Stiles says, shouting the last part so that Lydia can hear him.

“If you break those out, I might accidentally tell everyone about what happened when you got blackout drunk on your birthday last year!” Lydia shouts back. Stiles pales, and Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Truce!” Stiles shouts frantically. Laura and Lydia’s laughter echoes into the kitchen and Stiles rolls his eyes, taking a big gulp of his drink.

“Seems like you guys are close,” Derek says, taking a sip from his own glass. Stiles nods.

“Lydia’s my best friend, other than Scott. But Scott’s in vet school back home,” Stiles says. Derek nods, and Stiles feels uncomfortable as silence spreads over the kitchen.

“Sorry that I… uh, was a huge creep and put you in a video,” Stiles says, stuttering. Derek looks at him and raises an eyebrow. Stiles winces and prepares to be called a litany of names from Derek.

“It’s alright. Thanks for apologizing, but in the grand scheme of things people have done or said to me on the street, you are nowhere near being a huge creep,” Derek says. Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“Still, I should have just left it out of the video. Even if you’re in the public eye, you deserve privacy,” Stiles says. Derek nods, smiling slightly.

“True, but when you put yourself in the public eye, it’s hopefully with the knowledge that privacy is an illusion at the best of times. If anything, Laura should be apologizing to me, she harassed me for three hours straight when she saw your video,” Derek says, cringing.

“Ah, the wedding gown thing?”

“That was just her jumping off point. She got my family in a group call and they all placed bets on our wedding date,” Derek says, scowling and rolling his eyes. Stiles can see a hint of fondness in Derek’s face though.

“You sound like you have a pretty great family, willing to tease the hell out of you and everything,” Stiles says, smiling. Derek looks at him, eyebrow raised.

“That’s not usually the response I get when I describe them.”

“I always wanted a big family. My mom died when I was young, so it’s just me and my Dad, and Scott and his mom. I’m pretty sure his mom and my dad are actually dating, but Scott and I decided not to ask,” Stiles says, shrugging. 

“I can’t imagine not having an obnoxious family,” Derek says, and Stiles snorts a laugh.

“They probably give you a lot of shit for everything. I’d do it too if you always made that pouty face,” Stiles says, smirking when Derek makes the pouty face in question.

“I can never let you meet them, you’ll all band together and ruin my life,” Derek says.

“Well, yeah, but you’d like it,” Stiles says, winking. Derek raises an eyebrow but smiles.

“Children, you can finish your foreplay later, we’re dying of hunger out here,” Laura says, leaning against the wall in the kitchen archway. Derek huffs an annoyed sound, and Stiles throws his head back to cackle.

“If you want to talk about foreplay, I’ll tell you about the time I walked in on Lydia and Jackson-”

“Stiles!”

-

Dinner was… fun. Laura and Stiles have a similar sense of humor, and Derek is fun once he drops the sour face he puts up.

They end up staying pretty late, and Stiles finds that he doesn’t mind, even though he had a meeting tomorrow morning with his advisor. Stiles walks them to the door, wincing when he passes the clock that reads a time too close to midnight for Stiles’ liking.

Laura winks at Stiles and says something about starting the car, running off and leaving Stiles and Derek on the front stoop.

“I hate her,” Derek sighs, but he’s smiling, so Stiles doesn’t take him seriously.

“Nah, you don’t,” Stiles says. Derek smirks and leans in a little closer.

“Can I call you sometime?” Derek asks. Stiles' eyebrows shoot up, but he finds himself nodding vigorously.

“Call me, date me, whisk me off my feet,” Stiles agrees, laughing when Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles hands over his phone and smiles when Derek hands it back a second later.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Derek says, grinning. Stiles nods like an idiot as Derek heads towards the parking lot, admiring the view.

 


End file.
